


At All Hours

by taichara



Category: King of Bones - Erin A. Bisson
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-02
Updated: 2014-07-02
Packaged: 2018-02-07 03:55:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1884387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taichara/pseuds/taichara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five drabbles, for the Shining One of Arles and his four Wardens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Testing Temper

The _*thwock*_ of blackoak against steel echoed across the parade grounds again and again, as Borphyrra and her pupil traded blows in the dawning light.

Grinning toothily at the grim-faced youngster, Borphyrra gestured with her free hand -- "Come at me!" -- before lightly whalloping the strikes aside with her blunted blade.

_He's improved._

_Time to startle him, then._

Stance turned suddenly aggressive, Borphyrra ignited her sword, rust-black hair tossing false-sparks; but the would-be warrior held his ground, despite his wooden weapon.

Borphyrra dismissed the flames, clapping the youth on the shoulder.

"You'll do! Tell your parents I said so!"


	2. The Right Lure

Sunlight streaming through the high window-slits of the Shining Court's grand gathering chamber cast golden ripples along the walls and across the floor; smiling sweetly to herself, a secret little thing, Melhydrix was amused at how much it made the Court look like a pool of gleaming fishes.

Now, all she needed was to locate that one particular fish ... aha. There he was, the silly boy.

Gliding across the floor, gown trailing greenly behind her, she leaned in towards the young Lord Dinon's ear and whispered softly:

"She's waiting for you in the outer gardens; don't dawdle, now ~"


	3. The Lightest Touch

Delicately, so delicately, Anetheron stirred the dish of shimmering dark ink with the whisper of a breeze before dipping a soft plumed feather-tip into the stain and brushing it lightly across the waiting parchment in careful strokes.

It was getting far too late, lanterns glowing to life as the light faded beyond the windows of his study, but there was no time to waste; the master manuscript was needed come the morning.

He hated to do such delicate work after the sun faded from sight, but it could hardly be helped.

_May I have the fortune that it be accepted._


	4. Turning The Wheel

It was a moonless night; but Geoskia did not see the darkness that lay like a cloak across the empty gardens, dimming the presence of the pillars beyond him. His attention lay elsewhere, in the soil.

Seated tailor-fashion on the smooth coolness of the flagstones, eyes closed against the cold, he saw the pale golden-green of tiny seedlings struggling upwards through the earth. Slowly, methodically, he trickled strength to the tiny points of light in a delicate webwork of jade and jasper energies.

The season might be harsh, the frosts biting deep and late; but the land would still abide.


	5. Priority

The world was pinks and greys, hung in the moment between day and night, and Chrysheli waited patiently for the evening Court to disperse and free him from the necessity of rule.

The moment the last chattering figure drifted out of the great chamber he was gone, flitting through the hidden hallways like a half-seen golden shadow, off to the inner courtyards and an hour or two of quiet meditation …

_… Wait, now_

A discordance of essence; the softly bitter tang of tears. He paused mid-stride, probing gently, and found the source in the Autumn Chamber.

Meditation could wait.


End file.
